AMOR FATI . . . fred weasley

I...DIE FROM A FART

'Fred!'

'Well, he does meet all the job requirements.'

'George!'

'Yes, I'm Junior Assistant to the Minister, actually,' Percy says, straightening his bow tie with a rather smug look on his face.

'The Minister?' Arthur repeats with a frown.

'Yes, aren't you impressed?'

'Perce, I'm not saying I'm not... I just think, maybe, Fudge is doing it so he can keep an eye on us? And - therefore Dumbledore? Don't you think it's a little, well, odd?'

A suffocating silence descends upon the table. Even Ron's spoon hangs in mid air on its way to his mouth.

'Odd?' Percy's blinking rapidly behind his horn-rimmed glasses. Any moment now, his glasses will steam up - Joey's seen it many a time, mainly when he discovers his inbox at work full of dragon dung (oops!). 'What I find odd is the fact that one of your sons has amounted to something and you have a problem with it!'

'Percy, please,' Arthur begs, rising from his seat.

'I am the one who should have the problem if anything! I'm the one who's been struggling in the Ministry against your ridiculous reputation! Muggle this, muggle that, it's pathetic! Just because I have ambition and you don't, and I'm making more money than you can dream of, doesn't mean...'

'Look, Dumbledore says...'

'Ha, Dumbledore! I'm not ashamed to admit that I think you're being an idiot believing what he says, Father, you're both going to go down together, and don't come running to the Ministry when you do! If you two are going to become traitors to the Ministry then I am going to make it known that I am no longer a member of this family!'

Besides Joey, George is trembling with quiet rage, whilst Fred looks like he wants to leap out of his seat and murder his brother. 'Perce, don't be an idiot,' he says, his voice harsh and dark and deadly.

Percy rolls his eyes. 'Oh, I'm not the one believing Harry Potter's word for it! I'm not the one who's stupid enough to believe that You-Know-Who is back!'

And that's when Joey's last scrap of respect for Percy vanishes with a puff of smoke and the image of Cedric's face, a rancid dead thing in the long grass, reins.

'Percy, please,' she pleads, quietly, tears swelling in her eyes. 'Please. This is Harry we're talking about.'

'And don't even get me started on you, Johannah!' Percy's glacial malice has turned to venomous steel. 'I know your friend has died, and I'm oh so sorry for your loss-'

'He wasn't just my friend!' He was my everything, Percy!

'- but you are shoving your ridiculous propaganda down all our throats! Cedric this, Cedric that! I have had enough!'

'Don't - you - bloody - talk - to - her - like - that!' Ron yanks Fred's shirt back just in time, as he lunges at Percy with hands outstretched like claws.

'Yeah!' George says emphatically. 'Or I'll take your wand and I'll shove it where the sun-'

'Georgie, it's fine,' Joey says. She tugs the back of Fred's shirt gently. 'Come on,' she soothes, 'we're better than this.'

Fred glowers as he lowers back into his seat, glare still burning into Percy, his hand subconsciously clenching Joey's.

There's a moment of quiet before the storm. Then, out of nowhere: